


The Actor & The Musician One Shot Series

by detoxjusttoretox



Series: The Actor & The Musician One Shot Series [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Musicians, Romance, Smut, The Actor and The Musician One Shot Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detoxjusttoretox/pseuds/detoxjusttoretox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tales of the relationship between one Tom Hiddleston and a Mexican musician. One shot companions to "Magnetismo."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jealous Minds Think Alike

**Author's Note:**

> These were originally just little ideas that became a part of something bigger. OFC didn't have a name because I wanted it to have a reader-inset feel. One shots will be posted in the order they were written, which I think is still chronological, story-wise. Hope you like it...

Jealousy: my on-and-off impalpable boyfriend since the first time I had feelings for anybody. With Tom, it was easy for it to materialize at any given time; he was gorgeous and kind and famous and—well, you know. But it turned out to be a pretty easy emotion to control. Rarely did I get jealous of any girl who came into contact with him (since I tended to be that type). Unfortunately, that had not been the case this time.

He’d been gone for a month, promoting this and that, traveling to all kinds of places. Though, in hindsight, I wonder if I was jealous of the girls he was with or the places he’d seen without me. Just minutes ago, we had a heated discussion on the subject, before he was attacked by the boom operator trying to get the mic on and then hurried off by the floor manager.

As I stood a little ways away from the camera crew, cheeks ablaze and throat dry, I remembered we had already been together for 8 months, give or take a few days. I felt slightly guilty, but I shrugged it off with an exaggerated sigh and looked his way, only to find him smirking slightly.

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he turned to look at me with a grin plastered across his face, just as they announced they were coming back from commercials.

But he was furious not too long ago! Was he really that good of an actor? Or did he just handle his emotions well? I could hear the talk show hostess begin to speak while I marveled at Tom’s ability to put his problems aside so easily; something about it—especially that grin—made me uneasy.

My thoughts wandered back to our relationship. It was definitely an odd one, to say the least. We had parallel careers, sort of, just not the same occupation: the actor and the musician. Except, he was a successful actor and I was just in a shitty yet somehow up-and-coming band. We had both agreed to keep it quiet, but then two months later, a co-star of Tom’s from his current movie talked to her publicist as well as Luke, and they decided “HEY! Let’s pretend you’re dating  _this_  actress, even though you’re really dating this… girl…” It was obvious to me early on that not a lot of Tom’s friends liked me, probably from all the swearing, and the way I dressed, and maybe how open I was about everything. But when this suggestion was made, I was crushed. I thought it was a scheme to get rid of me. It ended up covering my ass.

For six months, the media has been fed this fake relationship between Tom and the actress, when in reality, we never really heard from her. Granted, it was all handled by the publicists.

“And I know you’ve been dating her for a couple months now, haven’t you?” the hostess’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Ehehehehehe,” I rolled my eyes at the sound, “yes, six months, actually. Very exciting.”

“Any plans of marriage?” the hostess inquired with a mischievous smile.

He took in a deep breath, then smiled when the crowd cheered. “Well, I dunno about that, but she’s very loving. I mean, we’re both in the acting business, so we know what to expect. I think we’re doing great. Maybe we’ll be cast and get married in a movie?” The audience road with laughter while I crossed my arms. “In all seriousness, though, it’s great to be with someone who understands your job,” he leaned backwards slightly, and looked around the room at the audience, “plus, she’s amazing in bed.” he wriggled his eyebrows at me.

My mouth was agape, as were others’, while others whistled or made other noises. What the hell was he doing?

I huffed and swallowed hard, making strained noises as I tried to tame my temper.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day, Thomas Hiddleston!” the hostess exclaimed over the scattered reactions of the room.

Despite his sudden divulging, he had become flushed. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard she’s talented. I’m simply specifying in what!”

I loudly drew out a deep breath and shut my eyes, but it was lost in the commotion from the audience, when I felt a slight nudge on my shoulder. I looked over to see who it was, only to find a tall, shaggy-haired blond man in flannel, jeans, and a beanie. He was smiling shyly, with two coffees in his hand, and extended one towards me. “Coffee?” he asked.

I smiled in gratitude and accepted the disposable cup, taking a tentative sip. “Thank you.”

He gave me a nod, then turned towards Tom and the hostess. “You seem stressed.”

I raised my eyebrow at him, while he drank from his cup and put his free hand in his pocket, eventually turning back to look at me since I remained silent. He flinched at my expression. “Just an observation!” he said hurriedly.

I laughed lightly, shaking my head and waving my hand in front of me. “It’s okay, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” We drank our coffees in silence while we observed the interview.

“Is it the job?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“The job?” I wondered out loud.

He shifted his eyes. “Yeah… I imagine being a personal assistant to one of the most sought-after men must be stressful.” He said with slight confusion.

I stared at him for a second, processing the assumption. Good a cover as any. “Oh! Yes. Personal assistant. That would be me. Just like you said. Very, very stressful.” I nodded vehemently, then took another drink. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes and turned away slowly, puzzled, before following suit. Glad I didn’t pursue an acting career.

“Is it safe to assume you’re single, then?” he asked lightly, shifting his weight to the other leg.

I looked up at him as he avoided my sight, then at Tom, who caught me and the stranger standing side by side. I smirked.

“Well,” I sighed, “apparently I’m not dating anyone.”

The blond turned to face me, then beamed. “Interesting.” Coffee sip. “I’m Bryce, by the way.”

We continued to chat—well, I chatted, he flirted—while the interview continued, and in my peripheral vision I could see Tom becoming more and more uneasy the entire time. When it finally ended, he was typically polite and took his time thanking the hostess, although I could tell he wanted nothing more than to run towards me and my new friend.

Tom moved in our direction, taking long strides so as to not look like he was racing but doing so anyways. I chanced a quick glance at him (or so I thought, since he caught it anyway), and noticed his jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard, but a tight smile remained on his lips.

Bryce looked up when he reached us, then gave him a friendly smile. “Hey, Mr. Hiddleston. Love what you did with Loki’s character.”

I snorted quietly at the title, to which Tom glared at me for, then he smiled at Bryce. “Thank you! Call me Tom. Since we’re all friends here, are we?” he asked, motioning at us.

“Mr. Hiddleston,” I chuckled, “This is Bryce. He’s single.” I raised my eyebrows teasingly.

Bryce laughed. “I didn’t know you were so personal with your boss.”

Tom’s eyebrows knit together. “Boss?”

“Weeell, you just heard him say we’re all friends here, Bryce,” I exclaimed, covering up Tom’s perplexity, “besides, I’m the outspoken assistant. The other one is better trained.”

Bryce looked back and forth between us. “The other one?”

“Oh, yeah! He’s got two. Very demanding, hence the stress.” I lied, putting emphasis on ‘stress.’ “Anyways, I think it’s time to go, Mr. H. But not too fast! You’ll sprain your back again. Gotta take your pills, too. Nice meeting you, Bryce.” I waved then winked at him, internally feeling remorse, leaving him laughing and waving back.

As I walked towards the exit, I felt Tom hot on my heels. “I’m not that old,” he growled, “I can still have wild, hot sex with my award-winning actress girlfriend, y’know.”

I slowed my steps, my eyes narrowing as heat crawled up my back and onto my face again. “Whatever.” I muttered harshly.

Though I could not see his face, I knew he was smiling widely behind me. I sped-walked through the passageway leading to his car escort, the lights surprisingly dim and flickery, the maroon walls flying past me.

“So,” he starts casually, striding up next to me, “did you watch my interview?”

I halt completely and he doesn’t miss a beat, amusement playing all over his face.

“Shut up. Just. Shut. Up.” I warn him, glowering up at him.

“Ooh,” he whispers, adapting his Loki persona, “I rather enjoy seeing you get all worked up. Look, I think you’ve even got steam coming out of your ears!” He reaches out and places strands of hair behind my ear, chuckling.

“Don’t touch me.” I snapped, smacking his hand.

His smile fades slowly, making my heart clench in fear that I had gone too far, when he placed one hand on my side possessively. He leaned towards me, and once I backed away, I realized he had me confined, leaning on the wall with his arms now on either side of me. An all-too-familiar ache deep within me awoke.

He pushed himself against me, and it took all of my strength to shove him off a little too violently. Now that I wanted him close, it was going to be a losing war to try and stay mad.

He cackled. “Kitty’s got claws,” he remarked, “do it again. I quite like it.” Suddenly, his hand was around my throat and I gasped, feeling his fingers pressing roughly into my skin but not so much as to actually hurt me. That would come later.

His eyes bore into mine for an instant, then he lowered his lips to the base of my throat, tenderly kissing along my collarbone. My eyes fluttered shut instinctively.

“Tom,” I croaked, “not here.”

He tore away from his task, then looked from one end of the hall to the other. No sight or sound of anybody. “Why the hell not?”

I groaned at his tone, rubbing my legs against each other to soothe the flourishing need. “The driver’s waiting for us.” I whispered.

He felt my shuffling between his own legs when it grazed his growing bulge, so in turn, he traced his index finger from my knee to my hip, hiking up my skirt in the process. A hum of pleasure vibrated through my neck and he felt it, responding with his own low moan.

His expert fingers traveled around my waist, toying with the waistband of my panties as he kissed my lips faintly over and over. Gripping my neck with both hands underneath each ear, he caressed my cheeks with his thumbs, and finally pressed his lips yearningly against mine. With his tongue, he pried my lips apart, though I would have gladly granted him access anyway, and attended to every inch of my mouth. I sighed as he pulled away, still dazed while he moved to remove my panties swiftly. I automatically responded to any of his movements and did not realize what he had done until he tucked the familiar pinkish flesh-colored garment into the pocket of his suit jacket.

I closed my eyes and pressed my palms to them. “Oh, Tom, not this…” I whined, then looked into his eyes.

He smiled down at me, then kissed my forehead and took my hand. He pulled my hand as I trailed slightly behind in frustration, opening the exit door and waving at the driver.

“Now you’re waiting, too.”


	2. 2:30 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OFC & Tom share an intimate moment, where Tom reprimands OFC’s bedtime and she swears a lot in return.

My eyes close tightly in regret as the bed protests under my weight, almost as if scolding me for being tardy for bedtime. The blue glow of my iHome captures my attention, the black numbers inform me that it is now 2:30 AM. He was able to ween me off my former late-night blogging, conditioning me back to a regular person’s sleeping schedule, like before I graduated from high school. Not that I was complaining; I love sleep and I loved being fully awake for impromptu fooling around sessions with my boyfriend.

Seeing as he made no reaction, I silently continued to try sneaking into bed. Sounds of my skin brushing noisily against the bedding cut the calm silence, causing me to bite my lip in anticipation. I managed to get on the bed, one knee on the comforter and the other on the bedsheets. I stared at his dark figure with wide, scared eyes, expecting him to sit up immediately and scold me. Instead, he made no movement whatsoever, and remained on his back with his head turned away from me to the left, one hand underneath his pillow, his bare chest falling and rising slowly. My face softened, and I paused my mission of going to bed unnoticed to take in the sight.

At this point I knew it would be better to just rip it off like a band-aid and simply get settled into bed. He was probably knocked out anyway—he was jet lagged and recovering post-interview madness.

I quickly placed one leg after the other underneath the covers, as far away from his feet as I could. The swishing sound of my movements against the sheets grew louder as I propped myself on my elbow, while I covered my stomach with the blanket. I was ready to melt into the sheets until his voice turned me to statue.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” He demanded, sounding more like a parent than a boyfriend, with no trace of sleep in his voice.

I simply froze in that awkward position, with my elbow supporting my weight and the covers halfway placed. Already my arm was tingling with numbness. I turned my head towards him, but my eyes didn’t meet his, pointedly avoiding his glare.

“I was j–”

“No,” he huffed, “I don’t care what you were doing. Your bedtime was 5 hours ago. Unacceptable.” He pulled all the covers away from me, cocooning himself in them. “Freeze to death.”

I gawked at him and sighed in defeat, plopping down on the pillows. But then he decided to yank them from underneath my head and throw them across the room.  
“Tom!” I whined, then muttered under my breath. “What a dick.”

Though he made no sound, I knew he was smirking. “Bed time’s bed time. You know the rules.”

As I rested my head on the mattress, I crossed my arms over the fabric of my worn-out Sex Pistols shirt I now used as a sleeping garment and glared at the ceiling, then at the back of his head.

“Some gentleman. Wait till I tell the fan girls about this.” I threatened.

At this, he cackled. “You’re bluffing. You can’t tell them anything without sounding crazy, unless you provide proof.”

I sighed knowingly. “Well, they had to find out about us sometime. At least the truth will be revealed, even if it kills me–or they kill me.” I began to sit up, when his hands suddenly appeared on my wrists, pinning me down onto the bed. The moon shone onto his almost-caramel colored hair, leaving me in the dark.

“Not if I do first.” He growled seductively. Where did this sudden burst of energy and seduction come from?

Needless to say, it turned me on. But as usual, I was still embarrassed and tried to hide it. “I like where this is going.” I said cheerfully.

He grunted, and in one swift motion, my hands were locked in one of his, the other pinching my chin, “Does it look like I’m joking to you?” he whispered angrily. Though his eyes hinted of playfulness, his entire body said otherwise. My loins were officially ablaze, so I decided to further his anger for my selfish needs.

“What are you gonna do about it, fuckface?” I snarled, eyebrows raised and lips curled.

I saw his jaw clench in the moonlight, but then he began to chuckle. “You have such a filthy mouth.”

I smirked pleasantly. “That’s because I keep putting your di–” he cut off my blowjob reference by crashing his lips against mine, a hint of a smile in both our lips.

“I ought to punish you for using such vulgar language.” He murmured, tracing my lips with his fingertips as he feigned contemplation.

With a roll of my eyes, I scoffed. “I wish you would. I always have to do the dirty work around here.”

Before I even had a chance to bask in the glory my retort, he had sat up, placing himself between my legs with my knees resting on either side of him, and I could feel his grip on my hair, pulling me backwards slowly. As my brain processed this and tried to catch up with the present, I gasped, then began to pant silently.

“Maybe,” he whispered gruffly, “it’s time to change that.” He lowered his face near my neck, his breathing tickling it lightly. I was expecting some sensual affection, but instead he began to plant butterfly kisses in no particular direction, the passing roughness gone.

“Ha,” my breathing regulated. “Damn, Hiddles. Had me fooled for a while there, but you’re back. Great acting, all the awards.”

There was a deadly pause as his muscles tensed and something inside him seemed to snap. I knew I would be regretting every single profanity and inappropriate comment that had ever escaped from my lips. I swallowed hard, not entirely sure of whether I was going to get really great sex or a life lesson lecture.

He threw me down on the mattress, and it groaned with me as I landed gracelessly. His hands wrapped around my wrists, placing my arms above my head once more, parting my legs open with one knee as he lowered his face towards mine.

“This isn’t a role,” he chided roughly, “you’re not very nice and you deserve the worst punishment a man like me can bestow upon you.”

I gulped. “Which is…?”

His serious expression changed as he smiled charmingly, releasing me. “No sex.” He retreated into the covers he had hogged, leaving me in my arousal with uneven breathing and mouth agape.

“Oh, nonononononono. You can’t just do that. Don’t you know how long it took me to build up the courage to seduce you?!”

The bundle shrugged. “You brought this upon yourself, darling.”

I groaned loudly, running my hands over my face in frustration. “Well, what am I supposed to do now? You got me all hot and bothered. I can’t sleep like this, you just added fuel to the no-sleep fire.”

He laughed lightly. “Nice try.”

I blew out a breath, my bangs scattering over my forehead. “Well, guess there’s no changing your mind.”

“Nope.”

“All I can do is go to bed, and probably freeze in my quest to find sleep.”

“Yep.”

“Or,” I sat up in bed, “I guess I’ll just take a nice, hot shower, and think about having wild sex while the water trickles down my skin… Then do my thing.”

He was quiet, then there was a slight shuffle from beneath the covers. “What thing?” he inquired quietly.

“Hmm? Oh, just the thing I do. Y’know, like when you’re far way, filming, promoting, et cetera, and I lie in bed and think about you. Well, us. Things we do when we’re alone together. But mostly you.”

More bed shuffling. There was a deliberative silence and then a muffled sound, as if debating with himself.

I raised my eyebrows at the bundle of British man in blankets, then shrugged as I pushed myself off the bed, heading towards the bathroom.

He zoomed out of the covers, enclosing me in his warm embrace from behind, then sweeping my legs into his arms, cradling me back to bed. “No need for that. I surrender.”

I laughed at how easily I got him to crack, then pulled him over my body as we settled back in bed, raking my fingers through his hair. “Is it really surrender if you wanted it all along?” I asked with a small smile. He returned it, then placed one hand on my cheek, supporting himself over me with his free hand. His blue eyes shone hungrily, ready to ravage me until he had his fill.

I pulled his face down towards mine gently, my hands clasped behind his neck, and kissed him tenderly. “Show me what you got,” I teased, “I can handle it.”

He grinned menacingly, looking directly into my eyes and said, “Sweetheart, you’ll never be able to handle it.”


	3. Two Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OFC ends up drunk at a bar in London, when her now ex-boyfriend Tom walks in. Cheesy as heck, you've been warned.

Things I had no memory of: where exactly I was, how I got here, and how many drinks I had consumed. All I knew now was that my heart was in excruciating pain, and the piano on the little stage was calling my name.

I was drunk. Sure, I’d had beer before, but I don’t think I had ever even gotten to the bottom of a can. Tonight, I had lost count of how many beer-filled glasses had been served before me at the bar. The entire place was dimly lit, save for the blinding lights of the stage. My mind struggled to remember how I got here, why I was here.

_Well, we’re on tour_ , I told myself.  _In London_. 

My heart dropped. London. I was a little hesitant about touring in the UK after… everything ended, I forced myself to say. I frowned exaggeratedly and took a long swig from my glass. But the British fans had begged and begged on all our social media outlets, and our manager encouraged us to do so. I wanted to say no, but that would have been too selfish and unfair to my bandmates, and the fans. We had come so far, we were gaining popularity and fans all over the world.

I was worried I would see him again. And immediately after I had scoffed at the idea. What were the chances of seeing my ex-boyfriend again, in person, even if we were to be in the same city? Very slim, my bandmate agreed. “He’s probably not even in the damn country!” she reassured.

We had been so wrong, it was almost embarrassing. As soon as we stepped off the goddamn plane, I literally bumped into him. I was still shaking off the sleep and was stumbling behind the rest of the band when we crossed paths.

“Sorry,” he had said with a passing glance, walking on and doing a double take once he recognized me. I knew it was him as soon as I crashed into his strong chest, the smell of his cologne wafting towards me immediately. His apology only confirmed it. So I ran off.

The glass was empty again, and I held it up to look through it like a telescope. I waved at the bartender, who seemed amused by my drunken habits. “Can I have another, please?”

Julian appeared by my side. “You must be thirsty. I’ve never seen you drink so much as one whole beer.”

I laughed. “Right? They’re kind of fucking disgusting, but whatever. It’s on your tab,” I smiled up at him.

He returned my smile with a sad one, concern seeping through. Julian was always looking over me. He’s my best friend, my lead guitarist, my mentor… and my ex-ex-ex-boyfriend. He had helped me start this band. He had opened my eyes to so many things. I owe him so much. And still, he protects me 24/7; he’d been practically babysitting me all these months, though it had lessened as I got better.

“I’m okay,” and it wasn’t entirely a lie, “it just hurts, is all.”

Julian nodded. “I know, baby. I just can’t help but worry.”

I took a long drink from my glass, tapping my finger on the side of it and smacking my lips in satisfaction. “Thank you.” I reached to squeeze his hand, and he squeezed back. Another long drink.

He leaned against the bar and crossed his arms, eyeing my almost-empty beer I had just gotten. “Slow your roll, bitch. You won’t function tomorrow and we have a show.”

I chugged the last of my beer, holding up my middle finger as I stared him down. He chuckled and raised his hands defensively, then walked away.

So I was at a bar with my bandmates. One mystery solved. I glanced again at the piano, then turned to the bartender. “Am I allowed to go up there and play something?” my voice was surprisingly clear, I noticed. I guess I was more of an antics drunk instead of a clumsy, slurred-speech drunk.

“Knock yourself out.” he replied, cleaning a glass with a cloth. I raised my eyebrows at him, realizing I had never seen anyone do that outside of movies.

I slipped off the bar stool, adjusting my pants and pulling my shirt down over it, and made my way over to the small stage. A few people looked up, my bandmates among them, while others were too engaged in conversation to notice someone had walked onto the stage.

I settled into the plastic chair in front of the piano—who the fuck uses a folding plastic chair to play the piano?—and let my fingers rest on top of the keys. After adjusting the mic, I played a couple of the chords I had trouble playing due to my small hands to warm up, and I felt more stares on me. I looked out at the seated crowd, squinting from the bright yellow-ish light that hit me from above. Familiar and expectant faces looked back at me, waiting. I scooted closer to the piano, foot at the damper pedal, and began playing the chords to Don’t Stop Believin’. The crowd’s reaction varied from elated to outraged.

I stopped abruptly. “Just kidding,” I said into the mic, looking back at the crowd, and they laughed. It was then that I noticed a familiar face I had overlooked before, making me do a double take this time.

He was on my mind so often, and I had gotten so used to seeing his face that I didn’t even register he had been in the crowd. But in my defense, I was pretty drunk. And seeing Tom now, in his black leather jacket and a drink in hand, his handsome face still lovely even in the dark, my thoughts all collided. Thoughts like, “Of all the gin joints in all the world,” and “Third time’s the charm,” and the reason we broke up, and the feelings that came with it.

Earlier today, I had seen him with some woman through the window of the coffee shop my bandmate and I were about to walk into, to which we immediately Nope’d the hell away from. But not before he and I made eye contact, of fucking course. I didn’t know who the woman was, for all I know she was just a friend or a relative. But I always jumped to the worst conclusions.

 

“ _You should be dating guys your age_ ,” he had told me that night, “ _we’re too far apart, you and I. In more ways than one_.”

 

I leaned my head back slightly, sighing. That was two years ago. It still hurt as if though no time had passed. I had tried dating guys my age, but in the end, all they wanted was sex. And now he was here, again, and I was still a mess over him.

“Can I get another beer up here?” I asked, blocking the spotlight from my eyes with my hand. Some people laughed, and I saw Julian get up to bring me a beer. I thanked him as he handed it to me, taking a long sip before setting it down on the piano, which was covered in old drink rings. What an unkempt piano, it was a miracle it was properly tuned.

“So I’m pretty drunk right now, because I’m heartbroken,” my words floated through the amp, “but I like to sing my sadness away. Also, the reason I’m heartbroken just walked into the bar.”

I laughed at my own bitter joke as my hands began to play the intro of the only song I’d been listening to lately.

“ _It’s been a long time since I came around, been a long time but I’m back in town, and this time I’m not leaving without you…_ ” I saw my bandmates turn to each other worriedly, while Tom looked as enamored as always with my singing. I felt a stab in my chest.

“ _You taste like whiskey when you kiss me, awe, I’d give anything again to be your babydoll. This time I’m not leaving without you._ ”

I sneak a drink from my beer. “ _You said, ‘Sit back down where you belong, in the corner of my bar with your high heels on.’ Sit back down on the couch where we made love the first time and you said to me, ‘There’s something, something about this place,_ ’” people whistled and hooted, instigated by Julian, “ _Something about lonely nights and my lipstick on your face. Something, something about…_ "I paused my playing and singing.

“ _My cool Westminster guy_ ,” I growled, a spiteful smile spreading across my lips. From my peripheral vision, I saw him smile softly and look down, and I resumed my chord progression. “ _Yeah, there’s something about, baby, you and I_.”

I scanned the crowd for him, the beer giving me enough courage to look at him as I sang the next verse. “ _It’s been two years since I let you go, I couldn’t listen to a joke or rock’n’roll. And muscle cars drove a truck right through my heart_ ,” my mind was reeling, my heart was racing, especially after seeing his face express guilt, so I turned my attention back to my hands pounding on the keys wildly.

“ _On my birthday you sang me ‘Heart of Gold’ with the guitar hummin’ and no clothes,_ ” I winked at the crowd, “ _this time I’m not leaving without you._ ”

“ _You said, ‘Sit back down where you belong, in the corner of my bar with your high heels on!’ Sit back down on the couch where we made love the first time and you said to me…_ ”

I leaned forward, a new energy flowing through me. “ _There’s something, something about this place. Something about lonely nights and my lipstick on your face,_ ” my eyes were starting to well up, and my cheeks felt hot and dry. “ _Something, something about my cool Westminster guy. Yeah, there’s something about, baby, you and I._ ”

I stood up, almost knocking the chair over in the process. “ _You and I!” I belted out, “You, you and I…_ ” My throat felt as if it had tightened, but it only encouraged me to sing louder and fuller. People cheered and clapped, which Tom joined in on, causing my emotions to swell inside me.

The song had reached what should have been a guitar solo, so instead I improvised a piano solo, trying to follow the tones I could remember picking out from Gaga’s piano playing. I plopped back down on the chair, not before drinking from my glass, and resumed my singing.

“ _We got a whole lotta money, but we still pay rent, ‘cause you can’t buy a house in heaven,_ ” at this point, I was singing so loud, I hardly needed a mic, so I would lean away from it.

“ _There’s only three men that I’ma serve my whole life, it’s_ —“ I paused again. “ _My daddy, and Westminster, and Patrick Stump…_ ” a roar of laughter followed, and I shook my head as I laughed, my eyes glossy with tears.

“ _There’s something, something about the chase…_ ” I smiled, “ _Six whole years_.”

“ _I’m a New York woman born to run you down_ —I’m not from New York— _still want my lipstick all over your face!_ ” More laughter. “ _Something, something about just knowing when it’s right…_ ”

I stood up again, taking my beer in one hand, the other playing chords still. “ _So put your drinks up for Westminster… Westminster, Westminster, I love you!_ ” I held out the last word, my breath catching afterward. The room went silent, even the bartenders had stopped the clinking of glasses. The only noise that was heard was my fast, heaving breathing. I was on the brink of tears, and Tom was slowly inching forward.

My face was scrunched up slightly in pain, trying to contain the tears from spilling over, and I ran an exasperated hand through my hair. I looked back towards the crowd, realizing Tom had gotten close to the stage. His eyes were also glossed over, lips parted as if he were speechless, hands almost reaching for me as if to comfort me. I looked him straight in the eye, then turned back to the piano.

“ _You and I!_ ” I roared, tears finally streaming down my face as I banged on the piano, “ _You, you and I! You, you and I! Baby, I'd rather die without you and I..._ ” The crowd shouted and clapped almost as loud as my singing and playing, causing Tom to turn around and smile, then turn back to me as he, too, clapped.

I sat back down, exhausted. “ _It’s been a long time since I came around… Been a long time, but I’m back in town…_ ” I looked at Tom, smiling softly, and he returned it.

“ _And this time I’m not leaving without you._ ”


	4. Reconcile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom takes his drunk ex-girlfriend to his place after her performance. Feelings are confronted and other activities ensue…

The bartender set down what I decided then would be my last beer of the night. And day. Maybe my entire life. I only accepted it to be polite. Or so I told myself, I was probably going to end up an alcoholic.

We drank in an almost uncomfortable silence, people passing by would smile shyly at us. I thought it was because they recognized him and didn’t want to disturb us, but then I realized some hadn’t even seen him and were smiling at me. Maybe they were silently complimenting my performance? I did put on a damn good show.

I shifted in the bar stool and held the glass up to my lips, and he straightened up a little in response. He glanced at me as he resumed his leaning stance, one brow quirked even as he looked down at his drink, swishing it.

After a long sip, I set the beer down a little too loudly, causing both of us to flinch. We both glanced at each other and then chuckled lightly. Then, nothing. The silence was starting to get ridiculously awkward.

“She’s just a friend.” he blurted out, looking into his drink, then throwing it back. “I had gone on dates with her, but… she had an interviewer complex.”

I turned towards him, eyes cast down and eyebrows knit together. “What? Oh,” the girl I had seen him with in the coffee shop, “that’s none of my concern, really.”

He gazed down at me, and I looked back up at him. He smiled lightly, his eyes flicking back and forth once from his empty glass to me. “I suppose that’s true, but I felt the need to clarify anyway.”

I smiled lazily, the beers finally taking a physical toll on me. “Don’t have to protect me from the truth, Thomas,” I murmured, noticing how he flinched at his name, “you dated other girls. How could you not? I mean, look at you! And it’s been two years…” I took a greedy swig from my glass.

“What about you?” he asked after a small pause.

I snorted. “What  _about_  me?”

He hesitated. “Did you… date–”

“Other girls?” I asked, and he chuckled. “I didn’t date any, but I did have sex with one.”

He gawked at me, then turned to stare at the wall. I couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction to my tipsy confession. He laughed nervously, supporting himself against the bar with both his hands.

“Sorry,” I apologized once my giggles had subsided, “but to answer your question, yes. Unfortunately, I did date. I was even in a relationship twice, but…” My smile faded a bit while I reached for my beer.

Those endearing, angelic blue eyes regarded me with worry. “Did they hurt you?” his voice was low and barely above a whisper, causing me to shiver.

“Not exactly.” I shook my head, resting it inside my palm.

He stared at me expectantly. I sighed, running my hand over my face. “You said I should date guys my age. Well, I did. The thing about guys my age, though, is that they tend to be immature, selfish assholes who are still just… boys. Boys who want sex and the privilege of posting the fact that they slept with the lead singer of a band on every social media site they own. Boys who write off your job. Boys who think you dedicate to your job too much.”

My blood boiled inside me at the memory of the boys I had dated, so I reached for another long drink from my beer. I could tell he was angry, too; his fists had balled up and he had huffed silently, turning his face away and shaking his head slightly.

I couldn’t help but observe his exposed neck, his veins bulging against his skin. My hands twitched and I felt a fire light up somewhere within me, past the blurred feeling of my intoxication. They were calling me, the delicious crook of his neck begging me to press my lips against the soft, pinkish skin…

“They’re scum. They didn’t deserve you.” he mutters harshly.

I blink rapidly, his tone snapping me out of my daydream. “Yeah, well. No use worrying about it now.”

He shook his head vehemently. “Still. They shouldn’t even have been graced by your presence. They should have respected you, and what you do, and understood you,” his words strung together quickly, “They should have treated you like the passionate, strong, excruciatingly beautiful goddess you are.”

I sat there with a dumfounded look on my face, my heart melting from his words, while his agitation lessened more and more.

“At least now they’ll know the agonizing pain of losing you. That, that they  _do_  deserve.” he smirked bitterly, signaling the bartender for another drink.

The bartender hovered a bottle of Jack above a fresh glass, the whiskey pouring into it with a loud slosh. Tom wasted no time in almost gulping it down whole.

My eyes softened, realizing that maybe Tom hadn’t only been talking about the boys I had dated. Maybe he regretted dumping me, but knowing him, he probably still felt he was too old for me. He could never grasp the fact that our age difference meant nothing at all to me. I had a tattoo of a heart with an arrow going through it that said “older men,” for fuck’s sake. I even had it on a shirt!

I chugged the last of my beer and slid off the stool, standing closely to him now. He wouldn’t make eye contact, but his eyes wandered about me. I was afraid to touch him, like when you’ve been walking in your socks on the carpet and you avoid all metal surfaces. I was scared I would feel a shock, or worse, nothing at all.

I placed my hand on his shoulder, and my stomach turned excitedly. The leather jacket that molded to his muscles was smooth and cool beneath my fingertips, and I felt him tense up then relax just as quickly.

I stood on my tip toes, reaching up to his ear. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He slowly turned to face me, his eyes lit up with dangerous curiosity. I smiled at him, and he laughed lightly. “Can’t argue with those eyes and that voice.” He licked his lips habitually.

I opened my mouth to speak, but instead another giggle escaped me. “You’re tellin’ me…” I said, mesmerized by the sudden closeness and warmth. I stumbled backwards, realizing my legs were tingling from standing in the same spot for too long. I chuckled again at the feeling of losing my footing, when his arm was suddenly hooked around my waist, the other grabbing one of my arms.

“Whoa,” he warned, “Careful.”

I laughed a little too loudly. I was beyond drunk now. “At least I know you’ll always be there to catch me.”

Tom smiled politely, but there was an underlying concern. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight, darling.”

I nodded, holding my hand to my head. “I agree. I think I’ll ask the guys if we can go home now,” I mumbled, spotting my bandmates drinking and talking animatedly at a nearby booth. “Although, it looks like they’re not quite finished…”

Tom had been paying, I assumed, or speaking to somebody before following my gaze to the group. He took a deep breath, almost satisfactory. “Right, then,” he secured his hold around my waist, causing me to catch my breath. “Guess I’ll take you to bed.”

I raised my eyebrows at him playfully. He looked down at me and promptly began to apologize in fear of having offended me.

I cackled, then shook my head. “It’s fine, I know what you meant.” I waved my arms above my head to catch Julian's attention, who noticed me instantly—presumably, he had been watching Tom and I since he offered to buy me a drink once I got off the stage. I made motions trying to explain that Tom was taking me to rest, and Julian gave me a thumbs up, but not before sharing a stern look with Tom.

“Okay, let’s go.” He said, leading me through the bar and out onto the cold street. I shivered at the change in temperature, curling up into my pleather jacket. Tom rubbed his hand up and down my arm, trying to warm me up. All I could think about was other ways to warm up…

He walked us over to a taxi driver who was smoking and leaning against the taxi. “You in service?”

The driver nodded, putting out his cigarette and opening the backdoor for us. We all settled into the car, wincing at the contact with the frozen seats. “Where to?” the driver inquired.

“Where’s your bus?” Tom asked me, holding me close and still trying to warm me up.

“No bus.”

“Okay… then where are you staying?”

I pulled my eyebrows together and frowned a little. “At a hotel… whose name… I don’t remember.”

Tom sighed, but didn’t seem upset. He gave the driver an address, and the taxi pulled forward soon after. I rested my head on Tom’s chest, feeling at home. This had been my home for so long, many months ago. Streetlights flew past us, the comfortable silence and Tom’s hand on my arm could have rocked me to sleep. But the possibility of spending the night with Tom prevented me from dozing off.

The taxi came to a halt, and despite not knowing my way around London, I recognized the street to be Tom’s. He payed the driver and thanked him while I frowned at the fact that he was still paying for me, even now. He helped me out of the car, trying to block the gusts of wind from hitting me with his body. I clung to his arm and chest, noticing that I wasn’t very in control of my feet anymore. He held me tightly again, searching his pockets with his free hand for his keys.

We took the stairs up to his flat, challenging enough for me but effortless for him, even with me as his burden. We reached his door, then he unlocked it swiftly, holding it open for me only to close it behind himself afterward.

Despite the darkness, I gravitated towards the long, soft couch—my old friend. I groaned in relief as I sunk into it, causing Tom to chuckle softly. He flicked the lights on, following behind me.

“I think you’ll find the bed much more inviting, darling. Let me just get my things and—”

“Nooooo,” I cut him off, “You sleep in your bed. I’m perfectly fine right here.” I pat the couch’s seat.

“Don’t start with me, woman,” he warned playfully, “There’s no way I’m going to let you sleep on the couch.”

I laughed lightly, then turned to face him. He was smiling at me, eyes shining and hair a stylish mess. He towered above me more so now that I was sitting, and my eyes couldn’t help but roam him to take in his appearance. Jeans, leather jacket, and that god damn thin gray shirt. Not too different from my outfit, except I wore a Green Day shirt that was almost too big. And my jacket wasn’t actual leather.

“Well, there’s only one solution…” I raised my eyebrows at him, unintentionally batting my eyelashes.

“Alright.”

He didn’t even stop to debate. He had just agreed. I lifted my head off the couch. “Yeah?”

He suppressed a grin, biting his top lip in the process. “Yes.”

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Hmm…” I stood up and walked past him, his arm extended in the direction of his bedroom.

The room had not changed since I last saw it. It was still very simply decorated, with only a king-sized bed flanked by nightstands, a sofa, a dresser, and a TV stand. The glow of the moon poured in through his bedroom windows, casting grid shadows on the neatly made bed.

I was ready to just plop down onto the bed when a thought seized me: how many other women had been here in my absence? I didn’t want to lie down on the same place other women had been with him, despite probably having already done so when we first started dating.

I had stopped so suddenly when I thought about this that Tom nearly crashed into me.

“Are you alright?” he asked worriedly, placing his hands on my shoulders. I nodded slowly, mentally telling myself to get it together.

But somehow Tom knew. He knew me. He observed me, he noticed things. “No one’s been in here since after you.”

I laughed bitterly. “I’m sorry, that’s really none of my business.” Didn’t mean he hadn’t slept with other women. As if I had any room to talk.

He took my hand in his, leading me onto the bed. We both sat at the edge, mindlessly observing the floor and our feet for a moment. I bent forward to unlace my Converse, kicking them off along with my socks. Tom followed suit, then removed his jacket and tossed it onto the small sofa. I shrugged mine off lazily, until he decided to slip it off my shoulders and toss it next to his.

I gave him a tired smile, which he reflected, and we both let ourselves fall back onto the mattress.

“I’ve missed this bed, not even gonna lie.” I confessed, turning onto my side to face him.

He propped himself on his elbow to meet my eyes. “I’ve missed seeing you in it.”

Even with the tired, drunken feeling I was under, I could still strongly feel my desire for him ignite. Without thinking, I pressed my lips against his, expecting him to push me off. Instead, I was greeted by his tongue, asking to be allowed into my mouth. I granted him access, and he completely let himself go, kissing me passionately as he moved to hold himself over me, his hands tangling in my hair.

I ran my hands up his arms, stopping at his neck and sliding them over his sculpted chest. We could have kissed forever if we didn’t have to breathe. He definitely tasted like whiskey. We pulled away from each other when we felt our lungs would burst, and our panting sounded loud in my ears amidst the bedroom’s silence.

“I’m sorry, I-I…” Tom stuttered and pushed himself off the bed, “I didn’t…” He exhaled and covered his face with his hands, while I propped myself on both elbows and stared at him in bewilderment.

He strode up to his closet, raiding it for his pajamas. As I sat up, a soft, squeaky noise came from my mouth—apparently my emotions were also going to be hard to control. He whipped his head back towards me upon hearing the noise, tears flowing from my eyes before I even registered what was happening.

“No, no, no…” he soothed, kneeling beside me on the bed, “Please don’t cry. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry.”

I let out a blubbery chuckle, then sniffled. “You are an idiot. But don’t apologize, your reasons are valid…” I wiped my eyes with one hand, reaching for my phone in my pocket with the other.

Tom’s face was twisted in pain and panic, watching the light from my phone illuminate my puffy, wet eyes now surrounded by smudged eyeliner. His eyes searched my face for answers, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I was hurt, embarrassed, and worst of all, angry.

I shook my head, a tiny fake smile on my lips as I unlocked my phone. “I’m just going to call Julian, see if he can pick me up.”

My throat was holding back my screams, suppressing my tears. I needed to let it out, but I couldn’t, not here. This and the drunken state I was in began to make my head swim. I was not one for holding back my emotions, my opinions, anything. It only made me angrier.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t…” Tom trailed off, standing up and beginning to pace. “When I saw you at the airport, I couldn’t stop thinking about you for the rest of the day. Hell, I haven’t stopped thinking about you at all. Try as I might, I can’t get you out of my mind. And then seeing you tonight, the way you sang, the things you sang… The way you looked, all I could think of was bringing you home and making love to you until you forgave me. And then I thought, ‘She’d never forgive me, I broke her.’ But I love you, I need you. Because you are everything I want, but we just can’t align.”

I was biting my lip so hard, it could have split open.

“This is fucking ridiculous, Tom!” I spat, shoving my phone into my pocket. “This can work out! It really can, despite the age gap, the careers, the distance! You know it, I know you do!” I was screaming and sobbing now. “We could be happy together if you weren’t so fucking stubborn.”

“That’s unfair, and you know it,” he replied calmly, “I just want you to be with someone you can give your absolute best to, and for them to be deserving of it.”

“The only person who deserves me  _is_ me,” I stood up, “I just want to share my life with you… All of our problems have a solution. There’s only one problem you refuse to fix.”

The room was silent for a long time, both of us standing only inches away from each other as our words hung in the air. I closed my eyes and sighed, moving to reach for my shoes, when his hands appeared on my shoulders, clutching gently.

“Stay. Please,” his hands moved to cup my face, his blue stare burned into my eyes as he lowered his lips towards mine. “Stay with me.”

“I—” his lips moved with rough affection on mine, cutting off whatever I was about to say. I couldn’t even remember who I was anymore. All I knew was the feeling of his lips crushing mine, of the burn of his stubble being painfully pleasant, of his hands searching for a good hold on my hair, and of the fire spreading through me when he pulled me impossibly close. He separated his lips from mine, panting heavily.

“I can’t let you leave again,” his tone was deadly, “I shouldn’t have let you walk away in the first place. I should have stopped you, I should have stopped myself from pushing you away.”

I let out a shaky sigh. “Problem solved.” I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, moaning once his lips were on mine again.

He picked me up smoothly as my legs secured around his waist like clockwork. Without breaking our kiss, he sat at the edge of the bed, scooting backwards as I straddled him. He kept one hand on the small of my back, the other beneath my ear as we continued kissing. He slid one hand to the hem of my shirt, pushing it up to gain access to the waist of my jeans, then unbuttoning them. I pushed him down onto the bed, causing him to groan, and leaned over him as I planted kisses along his neck.

I hummed against his skin, a low rumbling deep within his chest vibrated up his throat. I reached his jawline, teasing him by kissing all over his face and pointedly avoiding his lips. He caught on quickly, letting me know by squeezing my hips with both hands and moaning my name.

I chuckle softly, tenderly kissing his lips. “Just a little payback.”

He smiled up at me, enclosing his hands around my wrists as I pressed my hands onto his chest. His thumb caressed one of my hands while he brought the other to his lips, planting kisses on my knuckles. “What a sight,” he whispered, his eyebrows quirking up as he looked up from beneath me.

I smiled, leaning down to kiss him and lacing our fingers together in the process. “Don’t even get me started on you…”

He gripped the back of my neck, deepening our kiss. I moan and grind my hips against his in response, to which he tightens his hold on me. “I swear to God…” he warns, pulling down the zipper of my jeans.

“A little more payback…” I breathe innocently.

He rolls us over so that I’m now lying on my back, and he slides off the bed to stand so he can easily peel my jeans off. I sit up in bed once they’re off, hurrying onto my knees to be almost at eye level with him. I lift his shirt up, which he quickly disposes of, and does the same to mine. I reach for his belt as our lips meet again, unbuckling it and then move to get rid of his jeans. They fall to pool around his ankles, and as he steps out of them I trace his member with my hand, rubbing against his briefs gently. A menacing growl comes from the back of his throat, hands enclosing my wrists—he knows my intentions.

“Not tonight, darling,” he says fiercely, then smirks, “Maybe in the morning.”

He brings me closer so I can clasp my arms around his neck, then moves to shift us further onto the middle of the bed. I lie still beneath him, hands caressing the nape of his neck. Feather-light kisses travel down my jaw, my neck, my collarbones. This is a favorite spot of his, where he ensures he’s kissed my collarbones enough times, with the right amount of force and duration. My breathing slows, but my heart beats heavily and I feel it in my pulse. He takes his time, delicately pressing open-mouthed kisses on every inch of where my neck and chest meet.

Now, he’s ready to move to my breasts, and automatically his hands reach to grope them. I stifle a chuckle, but smirk instead as he is hypnotized by their workings. I run my fingers down his back to pull him out of his trance, to which he responds with a sharp intake of breath, eyes fixing on mine as he gathers his mind again. He flashes his teeth at me, a tame “ehehe” slipping between them. This time, I can’t help but laugh, rolling my eyes. He takes my lips in his swiftly before returning his attention to my chest. He covers the exposed skin of each breast with soft kisses, then sinks his teeth greedily into one of them. I gasp and arch my back, which was exactly what he wanted, so that he could reach the clasp of my bra and unhook it. His fingertips barely brush my peaked buds, causing me to groan in reply. He rubs his thumbs briskly against the sensitive area, placing a single kiss in the center of my chest.

I cry out in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as he lifts up and drags me closer by my thighs, kneeling between them and gazing down at me. He pulls down his briefs, and despite how awkward the process was, it didn’t take away from how good he looked doing it. The sight of his erection alone was hard enough to handle. He closed in for another kiss, and I took the opportunity to flip him onto his back so I could straddle him once again. He grumbles as he becomes aware of what I had just done, and would have scolded me if it weren’t for the removal of my panties distracting him.

Without warning, I take his hardness in hand to stroke it teasingly. He swears as his hands fly to squeeze my ass, then knead it gently. I smile complacently, scooting forward to position myself over his length. I run my thumb over the head slowly, to which he twitches at, and guide it into the entrance of my wetness.

I cry out at the contact, and I feel Tom’s steady hands gripping my hips. He leads the descend, we moan in unison as he fills me to the hilt, feeling how he, too, had been throbbing achingly. Once he’s entirely in, I roll my hips slowly, holding onto his forearms. He gasps and follows my movements closely, his hold tightening slightly at every thrust. We continue to move slowly at first, then change the pace. I lift up further and further each time, my breathing becoming heavy. He brings me towards him with one arm, conquering my mouth with his. The kiss lasts for several minutes as I’m bent over him, all the while our movements speeding up. Now we were flat-out panting, knowing the moment was close.

I break away from the kiss, my lungs begging me for oxygen, and begin rocking against him faster. Tom places one hand on my back, the other right above my clit so he can toy with it and adhere to my rapid grinding. I cry out in surprise, buckling forward onto my hands and place all my weight against his chest. He watches me struggle to gain control of my orgasm, relentlessly rubbing against my warmth. A string of profanities escapes me, and he snarls in return.

His name slips in stutters from me in between my erratic screams, my hands now searching for his. They find their corresponding partner, our fingers interlocking as I continue to ride him wildly. I feel the wave of delight consuming my every sense as they heightened; I felt Tom’s hands holding mine tightly, the way he was on the brink of losing control and fighting the urge to simply finish me off, the sound of our bodies pounding every time I plummeted onto him, the noises we made swelling in the room like a symphony. And oh, god, the feeling of him underneath me, holding me up to acclaim as we fucked. I was going to lose it, and soon.

He sits up, his mouth closing in on one of my breasts, then switching to the other. I yelp, clawing at his back for a hold of something now that we’ve shifted. He holds me closely and I wrap my arms around his head, pressing him into my chest as encouragement for more of his lips on my breasts. We’re moving incredibly fast, the constricted space of our bodies moving against one another making me scream his name.

“Go on,” he growls, “let go, for me. I won’t let you out of my sight again.” he buries his face in the crook of my neck, sucking on the patch of skin fallen victim to his lips.

I feel my walls tighten around him, and he thrusts into me violently. He grabs as much hair as he can in one fist, pulling my head back far enough to stare into my eyes when I come. I fall deep into those blue pools, mixing with all the heavenly bliss of his love and sex. I’m blinded by both darkness and light, an outright cry of pure ecstasy leaving my lips. I hear Tom moan my name brokenly in my ear, spilling inside me as I come back to earth. We sit there in our embrace as our bodies jerk the last of our climax, panting and groaning.

Tom pulls away, moving to pull the covers down from beneath us. He lifts me in his taut arms as I remain limp, crawling on top of the sheets and cloaking us with the covers once we’ve settled.

I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow and become steady. Tom’s fingers trail up and down my arms and back, and I sigh happily.

“Mmm,” he hums against my forehead as he plants a kiss. “I can’t believe you can do all that after 10 beers.”

A surprised noise comes from my open mouth. “I only had 10 beers?”


	5. Information Age of Hysteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OFC left more than just her precious Green Day shirt in London… "Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. If not always in the way we expect."

My mouth is dry, my eyes frantic, my muscles tense. It was nowhere to be found.

I was unpacking, fresh off of tour and still jet lagged. The band had come over to my apartment to discuss schedules, but eventually we split off, Iggy and I tired of the testosterone and opting for my bedroom. Being the organizational freak that I was, I realized I was missing my beloved Green Day shirt, and there was only a white garment left in my suitcase.

“Maybe it’s still in your closet!” Iggy offered, springing onto her feet and sprinting towards the double doors.

 I wanted to believe it, but I knew I had worn it during the last days of tour. But I don’t remember where it ended up. My heart clenched at the thought of it lying on the floor of the London hotel, abandoned and forgotten. I could weep.

I glance over at Iggy, who is calmly searching for my shirt, one hanger at a time. Bless her sweet soul. “I’ll check my laundry pile,” I said faintly, my voice full of sorrow.

My hamper was pretty much empty save for two days’ outfits. The shirt was not one of them. I sigh, and Iggy frowns.

“No luck?” I ask. She shakes her head slowly, her face sympathetic.

The bedroom door swings open, followed by three loud men. Boys, really. Julian's got a cereal bowl in one hand and his phone in the other, arguing with the other two about god knows what.

Julian turns his attention to me. “Hey, we ordered some pizza. Hope you don’t mind. What the hell are you guys doing in here?”

Hearing the word pizza was almost enough to cheer me up, but the sadness of losing my shirt remained. “I can’t find my shirt!” I exclaim over the loud conversation Jaime and Slade are having.

The boys quiet down at the sound of my raised voice. Julian takes a spoonful of Lucky Charms. “What shirt?” he asks, muffled by the cereal.

“My Green Day shirt, the American Idiot one.” my voice is tinged with sadness.

Slade walks over to me, then puts his arm around my shoulder. “You know what will make you feel better?”

I smirk slightly. “What?”

“Pizza!” he yells, clapping his hands. “Let’s go wait for the pizza!”

The male trio celebrate, yelling and jumping as we all exit my bedroom. “Whatever happened to ladies first?” I mutter as Iggy and I are the last ones out.

“Pizza does things to people. Especially hungry men.” she replied.

Suddenly, a phone screen is shoved in front of my face. “I think I found your shirt.” Julian says smugly.

My eyes adjust to the image on his phone, expecting to see a picture of me wearing that shirt or it being sold online, some smartassness like that. But what I saw instead brought a huge smile to my face.

“I found it too!” Slade calls from the living room. We all walk towards him, as he points the remote to the TV excitedly. I recognize the voice of the local news’s female entertainment reporter as a paparazzi video taken at LAX plays.

“Is he showing us his true colors? Is this what he really thinks of us Americans? That we’re idiots?!” the reporter asked exaggeratedly. The room broke out in laughter, and I almost felt embarrassed for her.

“And that’s why research is important, kids!” Jaime cracked, causing everyone to laugh while I was lost in my thoughts. I felt giddy, my erratic heartbeat and fluttering stomach evidence to this. I was probably smiling widely and blushing, too.

There was a knock at the door, to which everyone reacted with a pizza delivery guy comment. For the first time in my life, I pray it isn’t the pizza guy. “I’ll get it!” I shouted excitedly. Perhaps too excitedly…

I swing the door open, greeted by the man, the myth, the legend—wearing sunglasses, a pair of jeans, and sure enough… my Green Day shirt. He flashes me a dazzling smile.

“You’re in a whole lotta trouble, Hiddleston.” I throw my arms around his neck, and he leans down to meet my lips.

“Why am I in trouble? You took  _my_ shirt, and I didn’t say anything.” Tom says playfully, then kisses me again. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s just said.

“I didn’t take your shirt…” I start, my brow furrowing in confusion, before the memory of our reconciliation floods my memories. “Oh…” So that’s what the white item in my suitcase was.

Tom laughs as he watches realization wash over me, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Now you remember?” he whispers with a hint of seduction.

I shudder and chuckle lightly. “I remember the night, but not the morning…” I confess.

He bursts out in laughter, a contagious sound that makes me as happy as can be. “Yeah, hangovers will do that to you.”

I pull him into my apartment and lead him into the living room, not realizing he’s hauling a suitcase behind him. The door slams shut loudly, but is barely heard over the commotion my bandmates are making over him being on TV.

“They’re saying you think Americans are idiots on the news.” I point to the screen as his arms wrap around my waist.

“What?!” he asks incredulously, then watches the report for context. “Oh… If anything, I’d be proclaiming myself as an American idiot, I would think. And why would they chose to completely ignore the text that says ‘Green Day’?”

I shrug happily, relieved to know that my shirt is not lost forever.

Another knock at the door causes an outcry of hunger from my bandmates as Julian attends to the delivery guy.

I turn to face Tom, his arms never breaking their hold around my middle. “So, what brings you to LA?”

“I’m just returning your shirt.” he says in a serious tone. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he smiles coyly. “You can officially have it back later,” he whispers enticingly, “after we have a talk we didn’t get to have when you were in London.” I gulp at his words. “But now I really want some pizza.”

I chuckle, wrapping my arms around him tightly. I had missed him so much, despite our last one night stand (of sorts) having taken place only a week ago. “You and me both.”

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply, causing my bandmates to groan. I unwillingly break away from him, reaching for the nearest invaluable object to throw at them. “Shut up!”

“Get a room!”

I throw a banana at one of them. “Don’t make me kick you out! I  _will_  do it! Then we’ll have the entire place to ourselves.”

The band shrugs off my warning, turning their attention back to the pizza.

“Speaking of which,” he perks up, patting his suitcase, “mind if I bunk over for a few days?”

I feign contemplation, then shrug. “Only if you don’t mind sharing my bed. Probably the shower, too.”

Tom chuckles, then pulls me closer by the waist. “That’s the plan.”


End file.
